


hold me when i'm down, bury my soul underneath the ground

by prettyluke (buttonjimin)



Series: hurt/comfort fics [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, i'm sorry michael i love you, luke needs a bigass hug, michael doesn't know when to stop, michael is a piece of shit this time, there is a lot of crying involved here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:23:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4502403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttonjimin/pseuds/prettyluke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael never should have done it.</p><p>the one where Michael embarrasses Luke onstage, or the one where Michael fucks up big time</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold me when i'm down, bury my soul underneath the ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kittenmichael](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenmichael/gifts).



> written for astrid, the queen of hurt comforts who should never have let me do this

“Who wants to hear a funny story about Luke?” Michael shouts into his microphone. He glances sideways at Luke, grinning wickedly. Luke’s stomach flutters nervously; he knows Michael well enough to be reasonably worried about what he’s going to say. He learned his lesson after Michael decided it would be “funny” to take all his underwear and soak it one morning while he was in the shower. Michael admittedly agreed it wasn’t funny when he had Luke crying and sitting on the bathroom floor naked because he didn’t want to put on wet underwear.

But of course the fans want to hear a funny story about him; Luke’s not getting off easier there. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” he offers sweetly, smiling at Michael. Maybe he can stop Michael before anything goes wrong.

“Guys, trust me, this is gold,” Michael says with a grin. “Alright. It was back in Year 9. We were—fifteen, right?”

Luke nods warily. “Uh, I think,” he says, all his movements stilling. He did a lot of embarrassing things in Year 9 that could be misconstrued as funny to Michael. “But can we maybe keep going with the concert instead?”

Michael waves him off. “I’ll be quick,” he says, steamrolling over Luke’s mumbled protests. “Okay, Year 9. We used to have these showers in the locker room and we were supposed to shower after class.”

Oh, _fuck_. Luke knows where this is going. The realization hits him with so much force it stuns him into silence, draining all the air from his lungs. He tries to look to Ashton and shakes his head vehemently, hoping for a lifeline, but Ashton’s watching Michael. His heart pounds and his legs are almost shaking. Luke would give anything for this story not to be told.

“We were in the locker room with all these older guys, too,” Michael continues. “And, like, the Year 12 kids would play pranks all the time, right? Anyway, so Luke was in the shower, and he left all his clothes right outside his stall to put on when he got out.”

“Michael, this really isn’t that funny,” Luke protests, clenching his fists to mask the trembling. He feels choked, probably sounds choked. “C’mon.”

“A few of the Year 12 boys grabbed all his clothes and took it to the other end of the locker room. I’m talking, like, twenty feet or something. Maybe thirty. You should have seen Luke’s face when he came out of the shower and saw that all his clothes were gone. Pretty priceless.”

Luke remembers that feeling of horror, the same heartstopping fear that had brought him nearly to his knees in the tiny shower stall. He remembers looking out at rows of laughing boys, feeling the horrifying panic deep in his chest. And he remembers realizing that he would have to run, completely naked, all the way to his clothes. He can’t remember what kind of _priceless_ look he had on his face.

“Michael,” he hisses, moving away from the mic. If Michael hears, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“They made him walk to his clothes.” Luke had _run_. He had been terrified and so, so embarrassed. “Yeah, and then one of the taller boys held it above his head for a while and made him jump for it.”

Luke had looked at Michael helplessly and begged him to help, because Michael was bigger and cooler and could have saved him, but Michael had been changing, and had shrugged at him. If Michael had been Luke, he would have strutted down the whole length of the locker room proudly. But it would never have happened to Michael.

“Yeah, he was flailing a bit,” Michael adds, grinning. Luke knows he’s a showboat, likes to play around. Michael will milk this. “He was red, like, all over. Look, he’s doing it now.”

Luke touches his face blindly. His skin is burning. He wants nothing more than to shrink away from the spotlights, to set his guitar down and get off the stage. He looks out at the crowd with stinging eyes, and his stomach jolts viciously when he remembers how many people are listening and how fast this will spread through the fandom.

“Are you done?” Luke asks through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m done. Hey, guys, you leak everything anyway; I’m sure you can dig up a picture or something. Alright, alright, I’m done.”

Luke has been onstage so many times that he knows what to do, how to get on with the show. But he ignores Michael the whole show, even when he comes over to center stage to visit. He doesn’t do the normal jumps, doesn’t travel around the stage. He stays glued to his mic, channeling every bit of his strength into keeping his voice steady. He knows that Calum notices his stiff, cold rejection.

He is so grateful when the concert ends.

He almost slams his guitar into its cradle, restraining simply because he knows he needs it and can’t afford to break it. His ears are still buzzing as he rips out his earplugs. He surges ahead, pushing aside Calum and Ashton and shoving Michael so hard he goes stumbling into a wall. His eyes cloud and his throat is so tight he cannot say a single word, and as Ashton blankly says, “Luke?”, he breaks into a sprint.

The walls around him blur as he runs. He hears footsteps behind, one of the boys no doubt, and he goes faster, desperate to escape.

He doesn’t breathe, really, until he bursts into the venue bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him and collapsing to the ground, heaving gasping sobs. His whole body convulses against the cold tile. His cries echo off the walls, and he quiets quickly, biting down on his arm and trying to muffle the noise.

How could Michael do that to him?

Michael is prone, yes, to jokes and pranks that go too far. He orchestrated the one where they locked Luke out of the hotel room and didn’t let him in until they heard him crying outside the door at three in the morning. It was his idea to spill lemonade on Luke’s side of the bed and tell the other members of the band that he had an accident during the night, which Ashton well and truly beat Michael for. It was Michael’s fault for rigging the door with a bucket of water that had Luke soaked and in tears after a particularly exhausting night. When it comes to making Luke cry, Michael has proven himself to be the king. But he has never gone past humiliating Luke in front of just the band.

And after Luke cried for hours that day in Year 9, Michael swore never to speak of it.

Luke curls into a ball and buries his face in his knees. He flinches when he hears the bathroom door opening, his shoulders tightening. He doesn’t dare look up.

“Hey, Lukey,” Ashton says, soft and gentle as he sits down next to Luke and puts an arm around his shaking shoulders. “You took off awfully fast.”

“He promised never to tell,” Luke sobs, turning his face to rest it against Ashton’s shoulder. Ashton kisses his hair and rubs his shoulder, trying to calm him. “He p- _promised_.”

“Come on, it’s alright,” Ashton says. “Michael just thought he was being funny. He probably didn’t realize it still bothered you.”

“They were so mean,” Luke gasps. “They were always so—Michael promised—I can’t—”

“Shh, shh. I need you to take deep breaths for me. It’s okay.” Ashton strokes his back, and Luke grits his teeth against the shuddering. Ashton knows how hard Luke cries, how his whole body quakes. That’s why he always holds so tightly.

Luke is still trying to stop the tears when Calum comes in, sitting right in front of Luke and taking his hands. Calum’s fingers are rough from the thick strings of the bass.

“Michael’s a dick and I’m perfectly willing to tell the fans about the time we walked in on him masturbating to hentai porn,” Calum says immediately. “I’ll do it. Next show, watch me.”

“It’s okay,” Luke says, wiping his eyes on the shoulder of his t-shirt. “Y-you don’t need to.”

“He was a dick,” Calum says shortly. “It was clearly a traumatic experience for you and he should have been more considerate.”

“Where is he?” Ashton asks quietly, over Luke’s head. “Does he know?”

“He tried to come, but I told him to go back to the hotel,” Calum says. “Luke, c’mon. It’s okay. Nobody cares if you had to run naked across a locker room. People will forget.”

“Everyone knows,” Luke says desperately. Calum leans forward and rubs at the dampness on his cheeks, an unusually intimate gesture for him. Calum never fucks around when Luke is sad.

“Okay, come here.” Calum reaches forward and tugs Luke onto his lap. They’re all way too big for this kind of stuff, but it’s residual from when they weren’t. “It’s okay. These things happen. Remember when my nudes leaked? My grandmother saw those. Nothing is worse than your grandmother seeing your dick. But it passed. Hardly anyone talks about it anymore.”

“What if it doesn’t ever go away?” Luke whispers, his head on Calum’s shoulder.

Calum strokes his hair. “Hey, now. Everything goes away. This is not something that reflects badly on you. The boys who did it to you were assholes and deserve to be castrated. Like, seriously, I’ll do that for you. If you just tell me who it was—I probably know them—”

Luke shakes his head. The flow of tears is slowing down. “It’s fine.” He sniffles and slumps against Calum’s chest. “Is anyone outside?”

“I’ll get the security guards to herd people away,” Ashton offers, standing up. “I’ll text you when it’s safe.”

Luke nods and curls tighter. Ashton leaves the bathroom, and Calum says, “I promise this will have passed in a few days. Good thing is, nobody’s gonna call you Boomerang Dick.”

“You’re not really gonna tell about Michael watching hentai, right?” Luke ventures, looking up at Calum with watery eyes.

“I was just joking. I mean, unless you want me to. Because I will. I totally will.”

“No, no, don’t,” Luke says, biting down on his lip. “He would hate that.”

“That’s the point, Luke.”

“I would feel bad,” Luke whispers. He buries his face in Calum’s shoulder. “Don’t do it.”

“Okay, I won’t.” Calum’s phone buzzes against both their legs and he shifts, digging it out. “Alright, let’s go home.”

Calum stands up and hoists Luke onto his back, heading for the exit Ashton indicated. Luke is so grateful that Calum is still able to carry all six plus feet of him, because he knows if they see anyone he can bury his face in Calum’s neck and hide his splotchy skin.

When they finally get back to the hotel, Luke knows he’ll have to face Michael. After all, they perform every night; you can’t stay mad at people forever. He hesitates at the door, aware that he still looks like he cried his eyes out. Michael would know, anyway.

Michael is sitting on the bed, on his phone. When he hears the door open, he looks up with guilt etched all over his face and throws his phone aside.

“Luke,” he stutters out. “Luke, I’m sorry.”

Luke shakes his head and shuts the door behind him before tentatively approaching the bed. “I told you not to tell,” he says softly, “and you promised.”

“I know, I never should have told. I’m sorry, I just thought it would be funny, and it so wasn’t.” Michael is word vomiting now, clasping his hands together. “I’m so sorry, Luke, I really am.”

Luke crawls up onto the bed and slides under the covers. His whole body aches, and he’s more sad than angry. Michael looks so upset with himself that Luke feels the need to comfort _him_. “It’s okay,” he says with a little frown. “I’m not—I’m not mad.”

“You should be. You totally, totally should be.” Michael pulls the covers over him so he lies face to face with Luke. He touches Luke’s cheek. “You’ve been crying.”

“It was embarrassing.” Luke shuts his eyes. “Now everyone knows.” He feels his tears start to come back, stinging behind his closed eyelids.

“God, Luke, I am so, so sorry. Like, you can’t even begin to believe how sorry I am. I didn’t know it still bothered you. I thought—it’s been four years, I just thought.”

“I was humiliated in front of the whole locker room. Everyone laughed. _You_ laughed.” Luke doesn’t mean to accuse Michael, but they both know Michael was never entirely forgiven for that day. A few tears squeeze out. “You could have helped me.”

“I know, I should have. It was a dick move.”

“And you know I h-hate how I look naked. Especially then. D-didn’t want anyone to see.”

“Everything about it was wrong,” Michael says despairingly. “I feel terrible.”

Luke sighs and wipes his eyes. “It’s okay.”

Michael puts his arms around Luke and draws him in. Luke cries softly into the front of his t-shirt. “I’ll do anything to make it up. I’ll come on stage naked tomorrow.”

“ _Don’t_. Little kids come to our concerts.”

“Luke. Please. I’m sorry. I was a dick when I was 15 and I’ve been a dick today. You know I love you, you know that, right? If I had known it still bothered you, if I had known it was so _bad_ —”

Luke shakes his head to shut Michael up. “I know you’re sorry,” he whispers. “I’m not mad. I know.”

“Luke, you have to start stopping me,” Michael says with a frown. “I need you to slap me if I start going too far again.”

Michael is immediately met by a slap in the face, and he reaches up to touch his face, shocked. Luke smiles weakly, rubbing his eyes. They feel raw, but he feels better after slapping Michael. “Like that?”

Michael looks down sheepishly. “Yeah, I deserved that one. I promise I won’t ever embarrass you like that again.”

Luke knows Michael probably _will_ do it again, simply because Michael lacks the foresight to judge what will really hurt Luke, but he’ll deal with it then. Michael doesn’t mean it, and he knows it.

“I’m tired,” Luke whispers, pawing at his chest. “I’ll forgive you, if you cuddle me.”

“Anything,” Michael says, and squeezes him tight. “Luke, I _love_ you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I really am. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

Luke nods and buries his face deep into Michael’s chest. “I hate you sometimes,” he admits, “but I guess I love you more.”

Michael sighs in relief and shuts up.

The following night onstage, Calum tells a rather lengthy and entertaining story about the time they walked in on Michael getting off to hentai porn on the tourbus when they were 17. Michael makes sure to empty his entire water bottle over Calum’s head while Ashton chucks spare drumsticks at Michael in an attempt to be helpful.

Luke decides he loves his bandmates more than anything in the entire world.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry lol i have nothing to say for myself  
> song title from chandelier by b.o.b. ft. lauriana mae  
> xx


End file.
